


You Two…

by write_light



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crack, Curses, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2014-12-08
Packaged: 2018-02-28 16:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2738930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/write_light/pseuds/write_light
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A wave of hysteria is sweeping Beacon Hills and it seems everyone has caught Sterek fever… except for Stiles and Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Two…

**Author's Note:**

> Complete and utter crack, with some humor and a sobbing Scott, to be specific.  Written for fullmoon-ficlet's prompt #97: "Hysteria". Read it [there](http://fullmoon-ficlet.livejournal.com/268575.html), or comment at my [LJ](http://write-light.livejournal.com/545508.html)/[DW](http://write-light.dreamwidth.org/476916.html) if you prefer.

No one could remember who approved bringing a television camera into _that wing_ of Eichen House, let alone into Valack's cell. He blinked for the camera, both eyes, and then the third eye opened...

***************

  
Stiles was up in his room working on a project when he realized the house had fallen silent. The background of the TV, the sports his dad watched, the cheers and buzzers and commercials – it was gone.

The Sheriff was on his laptop, back at the dinner table, switching between at least five browser windows of-

"Are those tuxedos?"

"They're designer tuxes. Nothing but the best."

"For… you?" Stiles entertained the brief hope that his father had proposed to Scott's mom.

"No!" the Sheriff laughed, and clicked furiously on several pictures, then carefully arranged them side by side.

"Um, okay, I'm gonna go back to work. Big project due tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah…" the Sheriff said, clearly distracted.

Stiles was nearly back to the staircase when his father slid up behind him and wrapped a measuring tape around his chest.

"Breathe in."

"I just did – didn't you hear that gasp of fear?"

His father was running the tape down his arm now.

"Dad, what-"

"What's Derek's suit size?"

"How would I-"

"I'll call him."

Stiles' mouth moved several times in several different ways, but nothing came out.

***************

  
Derek sat by Peter's bed. He was wary, but Peter was strapped in tightly. They knew what they were dealing with at Eichen, and his time with Valack had only made him more unpredictable.

Peter was strangely… focused. He snapped up, hoping to sit up but the restraints held. The crack of the leather brought Derek to high alert.

"When did you first meet Stiles?" he asked.

Derek wasn't sure what to say, or if he should give Peter any information to work with. It could hurt Stiles, somehow.

"Was it out by the old place?" Peter asked, his voice a bit dreamier.

Derek's shoulders relaxed.

"Were you wearing leather?" he asked, a bit more lucidly, his eyes snapping right to look Derek in the face.

"We- He was-…" Derek stuttered.

Peter relaxed, a devious grin spreading across his face.

"I bet he didn't know what hit him. You - all big werewolf man, him some pimply virginal spazz."

"Those are moles," Derek said, utterly unnerved by this bizarre conversation, even with Peter, even in an asylum.

"Oh you've got it _bad_. What a match. _Per_ fect," he said, almost a hiss.

Derek decided this was a good time to leave.

***************

  
Stiles tried ineffectively to distract his father from calling Derek, but he was talking corsages, or table settings or bouquets - flowers, and for no earthly reason. Eventually, Stiles tried just batting the phone from his father’s hands, but it had already started ringing.

Derek, fortunately, was trying to call Stiles at that exact moment. Stiles scrambled for his Dad's phone, hearing Derek's voice. His own phone tweedled on his desk upstairs while across town, Derek sighed loudly.

"Pick up, Stiles."

"Put it down, Dad."

His father regained control of the phone and glared Stiles back toward the staircase.

"Hello, Derek?" he said, as Stiles stepped back from him, not sure what was coming. " _Voice mail_ " he whispered. "Derek, this is the Sheriff, but you can call me- well, call me Dad, if you like."

Stiles' eyes widened. He could hear Derek's voice, and it was coming from upstairs, a low, steady, and not at all happy sound.

He bounded up the stairs to find a message waiting for him.

"Stiles. I need to talk to you. Call me. Something's not – Peter's acting strange, even for Peter, and I need your help. Get Lydia and Scott. Something's going on. This is Derek. Bye. Call me."

He was endearingly awful at phone messages, Stiles thought, and then called him right back.

"Your father just left a message asking what kind of religious services wolves have when they marry."

"What? Okay, look, he's tired. Ignore it," Stiles pleaded.

"No, Stiles, something's happening. Peter was … he was _interested_ in you."

"He has been for years."

"It was a little more personal. And a little more 'us'."

"I'll be right over."

***

As he scrambled around the jeep and fumbled with his keys, Mrs. Hanscom waved at him and positively beamed.

"Are you bringing him over for dinner any time soon?" she asked.

"Am I what?"

"Your boyfriend."

"Scott's not my-" he said, exasperated.

"No, the tall broody one. Very striking. So good for you."

Stiles' mouth hung open. He believed it now. Whatever it was, he believed.

***************

  
"People are – they're talking about us," Stiles blurted out, as soon as Derek slid open the loft door.

"It's not just talk," Derek said through tight lips. "There was a note on the front door of the building. For both of us."

He handed it to Stiles, his eyes briefly catching Stiles' wide brown ones. Stiles read the note and laughed a small, relieved laugh. Derek's eyebrows went up.

"Scott! It's a prank. God, why didn't I see that sooner?"

"Scott hasn't been to see Peter. Peter wouldn’t play along," Derek added darkly.

"We'll go see Scott then, and see if he's…as interested in our relationship as everyone else."

They headed to Lydia's first. Stiles figured she would be a more reliable test. Lydia was cool, calm, collected.

And she was also unnervingly, unerringly logical. About why they were soulmates.

"WHAT?" Stiles yelled.

"Don't yell," Lydia admonished. "Protest too much and no one will ever believe you."

"Lydia, we're not together. This is some… spell, or curse."

"Possibly. It has a wide range. If it were a spell it would have to be someone powerful."

"See, that's more like the reasonable Lydia we need," Stiles said, relieved.

"Except that no one makes spells like that. They don't need to. I mean, look at you two," she argued, smiling happily.

They did. They turned and looked each other up and down, like a mirror image.

"You've even started picking up his grumpy frown," Lydia noted. "Let me lay it out for you – you meet cute, you squabble, you rescue each other _I don't know_ how many times, you start to trust, you stare at each other like you want to climb that tree… Do I need to go on?"

"NO," they said, simultaneously.

"Like an old married couple! You can't argue with logic," she said.

"So, Lyd, if it _were_ a spell or something, who would be using it?"

"The real question is _why_ use it? It's totally redundant."

Derek threw his hands up, uncharacteristically animated.

"We're getting nowhere. We need Scott."

"I agree 1000%," said Stiles, side-eyeing Lydia all the way to the door.

"At least acknowledge that you love him."

She said it with that chilling, all-knowing Lydia-ness that sent a shiver up Stiles' back.

Derek was holding the door open for him.

"Don't do stuff like that!"

"Sorry."

"And stop- look, just don't give people any reason to think we're in some hot and heavy relationship."

"No, of course not," Derek said, his voice just a bit lower.

"Sorry. Come on man, get in," Stiles said, more gently. "Scott will know what to do. He can True Alpha his way out of anything."

***************

The drive to Scott's was what Stiles could only call nightmarish. There were posters on lightposts proclaiming an honorary Stiles + Derek Day.

"Hastily made posters," Stiles commented. "Great."

"Where did they get that photo of us?"

"That's not a photo, that's … an original artwork. Hand drawn," Stiles said as he pulled up to a poster taped to the light pole.

He stepped out to take a closer look at this picture of Derek and himself.

"Oh. My. God." he said as he ripped the poster down.

"What?" Derek called, still inside the jeep. He could sense anger, obviously, but also something else.

Stiles waved the picture in the window of the jeep until Derek snatched it out of his hand.

"We're…" Derek said, unsure of what he saw.

"KISSING."

"We never-" Derek protested.

"It's art, Derek, someone's very weird idea of what you and I do behind closed doors."

"You act like a hyperactive teen and I glare at you."

"No, we- well, yeah, basically," Stiles agreed.

Stiles gunned the jeep and sped toward Scott's house.

***

There was a news van in front of it, and Stiles jerked the jeep to the curb, so suddenly that Derek hit the side window. Stiles was oblivious to that, slumping down in his seat and tugging on Derek to join him in "hiding".

"What is wrong with you?"

"Why is there a news truck in front of Scott's house?"

Derek listened. His face was unmoved for what seemed like an eternity to Stiles, and then it came – the eyebrows, the wide eyes, the jaw dropping open, the look of pure terror on his face.

"What? Talk to me, big guy."

"He's … talking about us. About how he got us together. It's… not Scott."

"Well who is it?"

"No, it's Scott," Derek growled. "He's not himself."

"Damn it," Stiles whispered.

"They're coming out now – they want to find us!"

Derek looked truly afraid now and slid down as far as he could in the jeep's seat, his face inches from Stiles'.

"Nice cologne, dude. Foresty."

"I'm not wearing cologne. I was running in the forest."

"Running like headband and shorts or running like a wolf?"

Derek turned his face to scowl at Stiles and brushed against his forehead. Their noses rubbed.

"Sorry," Stiles said. "It's just… _fascinating_ that you can shift like that. Do all your clothes end up shredded, or do they just fall in a heap?"

Derek put his index finger across Stiles' lips.

The news van revved up and drove off down the street.

***

Scott practically bounced out the door when he realized it was the two of them knocking, then he dashed past them to stop the news van.

"Already gone, Scott,” Derek muttered.

"Darn. They'll find you, though" he said excitedly, returning to the front door and dragging them into a fierce hug. "I'll take you to them. They really want to interview you now."

"Dude there's a spell or something, all over Beacon Hills, everyone. You gotta help us."

"You two!" Scott burst out again, and hugged them even more tightly.

"Were-wolf – _strength_ " Stiles coughed out as he was crushed.

Derek broke Scott's embrace and pushed him back a foot. He was about to get really angry when something even worse happened.

"Are you _crying_?" Stiles asked in utter disbelief.

It was more a rhetorical question because Scott's eyes were already puffy and a single tear trailed down each side of his face. Derek froze.

"Scott, buddy, get it together!" Stiles demanded.

"He - and you – YOU TWO!!" Scott yelled as he burst into sobs.

What followed was Stiles trying to simultaneously comfort and slap sense into Scott while Derek stood at a safe distance, his mind racing to find an explanation. Scott babbled through his tears.

"So perfect together. And you just couldn't see for so long-" he said, and cried more. "And now, I almost killed you and he _saved your life_."

Stiles looked up at Derek in a panic, but Derek was pacing.

"Der, a little help here."

"I don't know what to do!" Derek snapped.

"Such a perfect love," Scott said, his eyes glistening. "How could I ever hope to have something like what you two have?" he asked, and buried his face in Stiles' chest.

"We need to get out of here," Derek said.

Stiles readily agreed. Whether he was friend or deranged fanboy, Scott needed this to be over as much as they did. Stiles settled him in a chair, telling him to think of Kira and what they had.

"It's not what you two have," he pouted. "It's not _Sterek_."

"Come on, Stiles, leave him. We have to find Deaton."

***************

  
On the way to the vet's office, they were spotted no fewer than five times – and three of those involved screaming and pointing and chasing them for blocks.

"I feel like I'm in "Invasion of the Body Snatchers", Stiles said under his breath.

"The 1978 version," Derek added casually, and Stiles gave him an appreciative look.

"The original was better," they said, at exactly the same moment, unable to stop once they'd started.

They lapsed into a terrified silence for the rest of the ride, imagining that they were slowly being overtaken by the same curse.

"Look," Stiles finally said, unable to keep it to himself.

"If we do lose our minds, we won't even realize it,” Derek blurted out, and then buried his face in his hand. “So don't worry if I kiss you or something,"

"I – wow, kissing me is where your mind goes?"

"No, I - Wait, what were you about to say? And don't lie."

Stiles was stuck now.

"I was just thinking that if I had to be paired up with someone, you wouldn't be the absolute worst choice ever."

"Remember when we first met, I said I was thinking about punching you in the face? Well I'm still thinking that."

***

Chris Argent pulled up beside them suddenly, just as they got to Deaton's.

"Are you two all right?" he asked.

"I thought you were tracking Kate," Stiles and Derek asked, again simultaneously.

"Dude stop that, it's getting creepy," Stiles whispered.

"I heard something was happening here; just got into town. Figured Deaton would be a good first stop."

Derek sighed with relief. This was the Chris he knew – competent, in control, ready for action.

"Then let's find him," Derek said, turning toward the door.

Chris put one arm around Derek's shoulder and his other arm around Stiles and Derek could hear Stiles mutter "Oh shit."

"You know, Stiles, I could tell you a thing or two about werewolves, now that you're out in the open about it."

"Oh, I'm-"

"There are things you need to know, about anatomy, for one. Our family has collected a lot of lore about werewolves over the centuries, and you'd be surprised at some of the pictures we've got. The girth alone-"

"Chris!" Derek interrupted, furious.

"Hey, it's not a trade secret or anything. It's a documented fact. And if you're gonna be – making the Beast with Two Backs and Claws, you need to know this stuff, “ he lectured Stiles.

"I'm good. More than good. We are, uh, totally clear on that score. Got it. Big guy here is big."

"Stiles-"

"I mean really big," Chris continued. "I wish I had half of –"

"Oh my -" Derek's eye roll was epic.

"Mr. Argent, could you go talk to Scott for us? He's, um, … he's distraught. I think you could help."

"I'll go right over,” he said, sounding concerned about Scott. “Take care, you two," he shouted, winking back at them.

They watched him drive off.

"You two," Stiles said.

"That's what Matt said," Derek remembered.

"And he's been dead a while. Maybe he's dead like Peter. Or Kate."

"None of this makes sense," Derek said angrily, and they headed into the veterinary clinic.

"Thank god he never hires receptionists," Stiles noted.

"MY BOYS!" Deaton shouted.

"God DAMN it," Stiles said loudly this time, arms flailing wide at the universe.

"Deaton, this… _idea_ that Stiles and I are together-"

"Talia would be so proud."

That threw Derek for a second, so Stiles jumped in to help.

"It's not real. It's some kind of supernatural thing. You know this stuff, man."

"Magic," Deaton said, matter-of-factly.

"Magic?!" Derek asked.

"Don't you agree? I think you two are absolutely _magical_ ," Deaton gushed, clasping his hands together under his chin.

Stiles could swear he saw hearts in Deaton's eyes.

"We're too late!" he said, looking to Derek, truly scared now.

"What do we do?" Derek replied, out of ideas.

"Well, go the ceremony, of course," Deaton said. “We don't want to miss it.”

***************

  
The chanting they could hear from blocks away. The banners, the streamers, the confetti grew thicker as they approached. Derek had retreated into a stunned silence, his jaw clenching and his mouth a thin tight slash amid the stubble.

Stiles had swung more toward agitation, but as he tried to steer and rant, he also kept looking at Derek in the jeep beside him, miserable.

"Hey, Derek," he said, his voice softer.

Derek didn't react. There were crowds along both sides of the street now, cheering.

"Derek. Look at me."

"Watch the road," Derek warned.

Stiles braked suddenly to avoid a crowd that was rushing toward the jeep.

"Derek, look at me,” he said after locking the doors. “Right here," he said, gesturing to his face.

Derek stared back at him intensely, all wide green eyes.

"You are a powerful wolf."

"Not against this-"

"And you are not alone. I'm here, I'm going to stay with you. Just you and me, as long as it takes."

Derek stared back at this gawky teenager who was promising so much more than he understood, and Derek believed him anyway.

"Let's go see what they've cooked up to make this day worse," Stiles said.

***

Stiles had seen cheering crowds, been in them, been in front of them at the lacrosse games, but they were small. This was…

"All of Beacon Hills," Derek said calmly.

"And then some."

The Sheriff waved vigorously from the main stage.

"Oh god," Stiles said at the thought of dealing with his Dad, even a wildly supportive dad.

Derek put his hand on Stiles back to steady him and the crowd went wild. A thousand phones were bobbing over the people's heads, and a chant erupted – STEREK! STEREK! STEREK!

"Are they saying my name?" Derek asked.

"It's our name. Like Brangelina, Kimye, Destiel-" Stiles explained but stopped when Derek gave him a blank WTF look.

"Stiles+Derek.”

“Clearly,” Derek said gruffly.

“ST - EREK,” he explained, using his hands as props, while Derek’s face grew darker. “We're a supercouple."

The Sheriff approached, clearing a path for them.

"Come up here, Son," he said, and Stiles reached out his hand, but the Sheriff grabbed onto Derek's shoulder and pulled him in close, leaving Stiles alone in the throng of their fans.

"DAD!"

"We should get Stiles up here too, Sheriff," Derek said.

"I knew you'd be a great partner for my Stiles, first time I met you."

"You hated me!" Derek argued back. “So did he!”

"Ah, well, the werewolf thing, that was never really the issue."

Derek gave Stiles a look that said "Get your ass up here with me now!"

"Dad, before this gets any weirder-"

"Shhh- they're starting."

The mayor of Beacon Hills stepped up to the microphone and it got weirder.

"Today, we announce the unveiling of the new Beacon Hills motto, to be added to all city signs."

He looked at Stiles and Derek beside him as he waited for the roar to subside. They were pale, frozen in place.

"So here goes!" he said giddily, tugging a rope that unveiled a full-size billboard on the wall of the school.

**BEACON HILLS  
HOME OF STEREK**

  
Stiles was squinting, hard. Derek just looked defeated.

“Who comes up with a spell to make everyone else think we’re a couple and leaves us out of it?”

“I know!” Stiles agreed. “Who’s that crue-“ He cut himself off. “Who’s that considerate, right? Spare us the embarrassment of _actually_ having to kiss.”

The mayor had slid the microphone in front of Stiles as he said “having to kiss” and it echoed loudly off the nearby buildings. The crowd went nuts.

“KISS! KISS! KISS!” came the chant, wave after powerful wave. It was getting a little threatening, Stiles felt, and moved closer to Derek. That only made the crowd more ecstatic.

“If we don’t-“ he said, keeping an eye on the crowd-turned-mob.

“Stiles, I don’t think we should-“

The crowd demanded it, and Stiles was looking at Derek’s mouth now.

“NO” said Derek, but it was drowned out by the din.

All Stiles saw was Derek puckering up and by god he wasn’t going to be the coward in this.

He grabbed Derek’s head and kissed him good and hard.

Derek resisted for a second and then put his hands on Stiles’ arms, cautiously. He didn’t back away.

Stiles’ body pressed warm against him now as he pursued the kiss, and Derek let his arms slip down Stiles’ back.

The crowd roared its approval.

Stiles could feel Derek’s stubble against his skin, and warm lips pressing back against his as Derek embraced him. He held Derek tight against him, aching for that contact, for that wolfman to just once in his life smile at him.

They woke with a start, in bed, embracing – nothing.

Stiles was in his own bed, alone. It was morning, his alarm was ringing and his father was banging the door to make him shut it off.

“I’m up, Dad.”

His father left without saying a word.

Derek was likewise alone, in his large bed in the loft. His breathing was heavy and he still felt Stiles' lips on his.

“It didn’t happen,” he said, falling back on his pillow. _So why am I thinking about Stiles kissing me?_

***

When Stiles came down for breakfast, his father gave him a look, such a look. _Like he knows_ , Stiles thought.

The Sheriff kept up a forced conversation about the local criminal element, about Melissa and her on-again off-again status with Rafael, which was none of his business, he said. “Really, no one’s relationship is open to scrutiny like that.”

“Dad!”

“Look, you love whoever you love. I’ll support you.”

“What are you talking about?” Stiles asked warily.

“Just a dream I had.”

 

***

Stiles and Derek remembered every minute of their day; the rest of Beacon Hills wondered why _for the love of god_ they had a vivid image of Stiles and Derek’s passionate kiss stuck in their minds for weeks.  
 

 

 


End file.
